Desert Tears
by FanGirl16
Summary: Marik couldn't say he wasn't interested in Bakura's character. The boy was mysterious yet he could be civil if he wanted to be. Surprisingly it had been nice chatting and arguing with Bakura, though they had only spent a small amount of time together. The Egyptian hoped that he could get to know Bakura, and learn all the mysteries that came with him. Citronshipping/Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

Hello again. A new story now. This one is another Citronshipping. I'm really excited about this story but I don't know how often it will be updated.

I am also working on the next update of LOAK which will be a Thiefshipping chapter. Thank you to Jem Kallop for helping me with the title of this story.

I hope you enjoy reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh

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Chapter One

A small piece of bread and grapes were clutched in tiny, bronze arms. They were light in his grasp but his body hunched over tiredly as he stumbled forward through the sand. His feet burned with every step he took, his flesh throbbing as it made contact with the dirt. However, even though his bare feet were sore from moving against the sand for so long, he managed to keep moving. The boy would have thought that by now he should be used to the heat and rough winds throwing grains of sand in his face. But he wasn't used to it. His flesh burned when he was allowed out of his shelter. To trained eyes they would notice the small burn marks on his skin, but it was almost unnoticeable against his tanned flesh.

The boy's short legs pushed forward through the small breeze. It danced across his cheeks, brushing his blond hair back around his shoulders. It was getting darker but the heat was still scorching as strong as it did that morning. The rays of light beamed at the boy as if to mock him. Violet eyes glanced up at the sun in an annoyed, tired glare. He had travelled for such a long time as well as trudging through the markets so was it such a surprise that he was exhausted? Unfortunately he knew he couldn't rest yet. He had to make it back to the tunnels before night fell. The young child had heard so many stories escape the villager's mouths of bandits that would snatch children like him in the night. And Marik Ishtar did not want to be kidnapped, especially not tonight, so the Egyptian straightened and hurried his pace. He winced as his feet scraped the rough floor, burning him even quicker. Why couldn't there have been any shade? He hadn't been able to stop even once and the lack of water in his system was definitely having an effect on him. Just one oasis would be enough for him or even a village so that he could rest for a while without worrying about bandits.

But deep down Marik knew he couldn't stray from his path. He had to get back to his home where he knew for certain he would be safe. The tunnels weren't a fabulous living area but it was the only place he could call home. Marik lived alone in those tunnels. They were deserted and dark, hidden underground where no one dared venture, which was a good thing. Marik didn't think he'd appreciate being woken up in the night with a knife to his throat.

It was hard for him despite the lonely, safe place he lived. He was ten, a mere child living alone with no one to talk to. His family had gone. His sister and brother both worked as priest and priestess to the pharaoh, loyal followers to a king. Of course Marik had been part of the palace too but he had realized after a while that he was a prisoner. He was kept inside of the palace walls at all times, unable to see the deserts and markets on the outside. He was confined but treated with respect. However he was never satisfied, he had wanted to be free and live amongst the villagers rather than cut off from them. He had wanted a friend. Sure he had his siblings, but he had trouble talking to them and hardly saw them unless he was summoned to the throne room. Even then he could only stare longingly in their directions. It had always seemed that Isis and Shada had no interest in him so that was why he had fled. Guards were ordered to find him but gave up after a few months. It had pleased Marik greatly that he was now free, but he had also found out how hard life was. Still, he was away from the palace and safe. He just wished he had someone to talk to.

With a sigh, Marik clutched his meal tighter to his chest and stumbled further forward. The dirty tunic he wore swept around his sweaty legs, it whipped at his thighs causing his burns to throb even stronger. As Marik struggled to keep his legs moving the wind suddenly swept a heartbreakingly loud sob through the air. Marik's eyebrows furrowed at the foreign noise, his violet eyes scanning the desert around him for the source. For a few minutes the boy stood amongst the sand with confused eyes. The sobs continued and only seemed to get louder the longer Marik stood there. With a huff the child hugged his food and started back on his path. He wouldn't be surprised if those weeps were just his imagination, he was far too tired and thirsty to be thinking clearly. He needed to get back, to where he would be safe and could drink as much water as he wanted. However fate had other plans.

The wind brushed against Marik's face, tugging a strand of hair into his eyes. With a pout, the Egyptian turned his head sharply hoping to throw the hair out of his face by force. As he did so the child's eyes caught a glimpse of white amongst the nearest sandy hill. He had no idea what could be doing so far out in the desert nor he did he know what was white. It looked so strange as it swayed gently across the dirt. It contrasted greatly with the brown sand and looked so soft to touch. It was odd that such a thing would be lying in the desert, but it intrigued Marik. Without thinking anymore into it, the Egyptian fell forward onto his knees and crawled over to the fluttering object. When he was close enough Marik reached for it and gently ran his small fingers across the white softness. It tangled through his fingers and fell limply in his hand. Marik was shocked when he realized what exactly it was. He scooted back and let the strands of white hair fall back against the sand.

Marik's eyes widened when the hair flew backwards and a head of white locks came up to meet him. A pair of wide brown eyes peered up from within the milky fringe and gave Marik a melancholy stare. These belonged to a young girl who seemed just a few years younger than Marik. Her skin was tanned but noticeably pale compared to his and her flesh had a few cuts and bruises decorating it. Her pretty cheeks were stained with tears and only seemed to wet more at the sight of Marik. With uncertain, slow movements, the boy crept forward again and reached his hand out to her. She blinked with a squeak before stumbling away from the hill. The girl didn't get far, though as her short legs buckled and she was sent falling back down.

"Are you alright?" Marik asked carefully as he slid down the sandy hill to her side. The chocolate eyes grew even wider as Marik approached but she didn't turn away. She sniffed instead and her tears once again began to flow uncontrollably down her face. "Er…" the boy mumbled as he sat beside her. It took a few minutes before the other spoke.

"I'm lost" she cried out. Her tanned palms flew up to her face in an attempt to wipe her tears. Marik watched the poor child. He didn't know what to do for her; he wasn't good at comforting and had no idea where she came from. There were no villages nearby that he knew of so she must have travelled quite a bit to get where she was. Since he knew how tough it was to travel so far at a young age he was immediately concerned for her health. He looked her over, studying the cuts on her arms and legs. They weren't deep and didn't seem to be bleeding but it could still be a hazard of infection if they weren't treated. She needed to get back home soon or else those bandits might come and get her. Marik gulped at the thought of such an emotional child in the giant hands of her capturer. "Who are you?" the tiny voice asked when her tears had been calmed.

"My name is Marik" the Egyptian replied steadily. The girl nodded and was surprisingly able to smile kindly at Marik. The boy's eyebrow rose in curiosity at the sudden change of mood.

"What's your name?" Marik asked as he shifted a bit more to get comfortable. He had a feeling this girl would need some company until she decided to go back to where she came from. The tanned girl smiled wider and held her small, damp hand out for Marik to shake.

"I'm Amana" She said proudly. The boy took her offered hand and shook it gently with a small smile of his own. When their hands separated, Amana suddenly giggled childishly causing Marik to glance at her with questioning eyes. Without warning her tanned fingers reached out and she tugged on Marik's hair roughly. The boy winced and sent her a glare which Amana ignored. "Why is your hair yellow?"

Marik blinked before he burst into fits of laughter. Amana pulled back and gave Marik a confused stare. Why was he laughing? It was an innocent question. She had never once seen anyone with blond hair before. It was strange to see someone with that colour hair. It took Marik a while to calm down but he gave Amana a cheeky grin and reached for her hair. His bronze fingers grasped a long strand of white hair and he grinned wider at the softness of it. Amana's hair was beautiful considering the odd colour. It was extremely long and swept to the middle of her back; some strands were untidy and swung in her face. Amana didn't seem to mind the touch and allowed Marik to play with her hair.

"Why is your hair white?" Marik eventually replied, his lips still turned up in a cocky grin.

"Haven't you seen anyone with white hair before?" Amana asked with curiosity burning in her brown eyes. Marik shrugged and released the girl's pretty hair.

"No. Have you ever seen anyone with blond hair before?" Marik asked. It was true. He had never seen anyone with white hair before. How could he when he had not had contact with the outside world? Amana stared at him before shaking her head, her long hair swooping around her shoulders. Marik couldn't help but smirk.

"Marik?" Amana asked suddenly, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin atop them.

"Hmm?" Marik mumbled as he settled himself down onto the sand. His blond locks fell from his face allowing his features to be clearly visible to the sky above him.

"Where did you come from?" Marik frowned in concentration, his violet eyes still trained on the darkening sky.

"What do you mean?"

"I've never seen you in my village before. Momma said there aren't anymore places near, so where did you come from?" Amana asked quickly. She puffed some air from her lips to rid an annoying strand of white from her face. Marik sighed and closed his eyes as he thought of an answer. He couldn't reveal where he lived otherwise she could tell someone and anyone could invade his tunnels. It wasn't that he didn't necessarily trust Amana, but she was so young and naïve. The girl could easily spread his secrets without realizing how important they were. Who knew, Amana could be the daughter of thugs and thieves and Marik wouldn't know.

He decided to lie; well part of it was truthful. "I live in the palace" Amana's eyes grew twice in size at his words. She had always dreamed of what life was like in the palace. Unfortunately her mother had prevented her from visiting the palace as they wouldn't take kindly to poor villagers like her. However Amana had always dreamt of the palace even though her mother had told her to forget about it.

"You do? What's it like?" The girl asked with such enthusiasm. Her eyes sparkled happily, an enormous smile gracing her tanned face.

Marik sat up and glanced at Amana with softened eyes. If only she knew how they treated him. Still, he could just make up what he expected the palace to be like. "It's beautiful, Amana. The walls are covered in gold and shine as brightly as the sun is now. The corridors are long and winding, they are great to explore in because you never know where you'll end up. But the throne room is the best by far. All around you is gold and treasures that are as tall as me or you. The throne is taken by the pharaoh and his son, Atem sits beside him as prince. They both are surrounded by their loyal priests and priestess'. Two of which are my brother and sister" the boy stopped there, turning his head so that Amana wouldn't see the grimace on his face.

It seemed to work as the child didn't see Marik's expression and smiled even wider. Her face showed her happiness and her eyes glazed over with a dreamy gaze. She could picture it all. The prince sitting beside his father with such pride, their subjects kneeling beside the throne with respect in long golden robes. At that thought Amana's gaze came back to the present as she stared at Marik's clothing with confusion.

"Why aren't you in royal clothing, Marik?" Amana asked. Marik glanced down at himself and frowned at his dirty tunic. He had escaped the palace in a mauve coloured cape and golden jewellery. He had changed his attire since the guards or villagers would have recognised him as a noble.

"I didn't want anyone to recognise me as I rarely go out" Amana nodded and took hold of the sleeve of Marik's tunic.

"I think it needs a wash" she laughed, scrunching up her nose at the dirt and stains in the fabric. Marik gave her a playful glare in response. They settled back into silence as the sun began to fade behind the clouds. The sky was definitely darker now and Marik was getting slightly worried. He had thought that by now someone would have come and found them or at least be nearby. Marik was brought out of his thoughts when a low grumbling was heard. He looked over to Amana in surprise and chuckled when he noticed her cheeks dust pink.

"You hungry?" he asked her. The Egyptian girl nodded, her lips set in a firm line. "How long have you gone without food?"

Amana frowned. "A long time" Marik's eyes narrowed. How long had she been out here, anyway? Surely she hadn't been here long, a girl so young as her would certainly die if left in an environment like this. And where had she come from? She had said she had a village but how far away was it? Marik was certain there weren't any nearby. Marik sighed and rubbed his head. The heat and too much thinking were giving him a headache. However, for the moment he knew there was one thing he could do for her. Reaching down, Marik grabbed the bread and grapes from his side and placed them in his lap. He could immediately feel Amana's brown, hungry gaze on him so he quickly gripped the bread tightly and pulled, snapping it in half. Amana was more than grateful when the bread was placed in her eager hands. All Marik received was a mumbled 'thanks' before the bread was quickly devoured.

Marik took his time, munching at the food and savouring the taste. He was definitely a slow eater but why did he have to rush? There was no need to shove the food in his mouth with such speed. Instead he broke off small pieces of the bread and placed it on his tongue. His saliva soaked into it, dissolving the bread until only mush remained. It didn't have much taste, but the crumbling texture was delicious.

"Could I have some of those?" Amana asked hesitantly as she pointed to the pile of grapes in Marik's lap. The boy nodded and passed it to Amana with a warm smile. Her fingers gripped them tightly, her eyes kind and grateful.

"Thank you for sharing your food with me" Amana said as she plucked a piece of fruit from the rest and placed it in her mouth. The grape exploded as soon as her teeth sunk into the skin, its juices swimming around in her mouth.

"You're welcome" Marik replied as he finished off his bread, sucking on his fingers and licking between his nails for any crumbs.

"You're very kind, Marik. Not many people are kind to me" Amana commented. She picked another grape from the stalk and handed it to the other which Marik gladly accepted. He raised an eyebrow at her in confusion. How could no one be kind to her. She was a lovely girl. Sure she could be annoying at times, but what would cause others to be heartless toward her?

"Why?" he asked, placing the grape on his tongue and sucking on the juice that leaked down his throat.

The girl sighed. "Because of my hair. Me and my brother are the only ones in our village with white hair"

"You have a brother?" Marik asked with interest. This seemed to make Amana smile as it distracted her from her sad thoughts.

"Yes. He is a bit older than me but he tries to act older" Amana said with a pout.

"How old are you, exactly?" Marik asked with a chuckle. Amana placed another grape into her mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"I'm eight and a half" she smiled. "How old are you?"

"Ten" Marik said, pointing his thumb at his chest proudly. Amana gasped.

"Oh, that's how old Bakura is!"

"Bakura?" Marik asked. He watched the girl as she chewed on yet another grape.

"My brother. His name is Bakura" she said happily. Her smile soon fell when she realized her predicament. The brown eyes looked up at Marik with sadness swirling in their depths. He was about to ask her what was wrong but was interrupted as she spoke again. Her tone this time was definitely one of sadness and longing. "I miss him"

Marik stared down at the sand, his expression thoughtful. Her tone and words had struck something inside him. She missed her brother, Bakura and from the way she spoke of him and mentioned his name, Marik could tell how fond she was of him. He could sense the love and affection she had for her brother. Marik felt tears prickling the corners of his eyes. He missed his siblings too. Even though they may not have paid him any attention or spoke to him at all, Marik still loved them and wanted to be with them. However, he knew that he would be trapped and imprisoned again if he went back. Maybe his siblings would want to see him even less now that they knew he had left them. He didn't want Bakura to feel the same way about his sister. He didn't want Amana to feel like she was hated by her brother because she never came back home. He knew the pain of it, loving someone when they might not love you back anymore. Amana couldn't feel that pain, too. She would break.

With a grunt, Marik rose from his seat on the floor and grabbed Amana's small hand. Her eyes widened at the sudden touch, too shocked to retort as Marik pulled her to her feet. The boy didn't speak as he led her back up the sandy hill where their footprints still moulded into the sand. He kept his head turned to the front so that Amana wouldn't be able to see the few tears that escaped his eyes.

"Marik? What are you doing?" Amana managed to gasp out as her little legs struggled to make pace with Marik's. The girl still clutched the grapes in her free hand, holding them close to her chest so that they wouldn't fall from her fingers.

"I'm taking you home" Marik replied with a determined tone to his voice. Amana didn't reply, but she had a feeling of hope flutter up into her chest. "Where is this village?"

Amana gasped as Marik tugged at her hand, pulling her forward in an awkward stumble. "Kul Elna" was her murmur as she rocked to Marik's side. Their fingers intertwined in a comfortable touch. Marik wasn't exactly sure where Kul Elna was but he was sure that the two of them would find the village soon. The boy looked up to the sky, which had darkened considerably. Small stars were visible amongst the clouds, but the sun was still painting the sky with its orange glow. But if they didn't find the village or shelter soon, they would most definitely be snatched away by the dreaded bandits. It seemed that Marik had strayed way too far from his path, but it was much too late to turn back now.

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I hope you enjoyed this. Please review and let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Next chapter. Bakura is introduced, yay! Also I think I rushed the ending because it was getting late and I wanted to update. Meh. Hope you enjoy this update despite the ending.

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Chapter Two

The two children had been walking for a long hour. Their feet ached, but the sand had cooled considerably thanks to the sun disappearing. It was dark yet Marik could still see perfectly fine. He was used to the darkness. Who wouldn't be when living in a black underground tunnel? However, there was a little bit of light left over from the sun, leaving several small orange glows against the sand. Marik couldn't help but stare at the beauty of it. He never stayed out of the tunnels so late and he couldn't believe what he had been missing. The light glistened on each grain of sand and left it warm when Marik's feet connected with that part of the floor. The sand seemed to be shining up at him as he sank his foot into it. When he lifted that limb from the dirt he could feel the cool breeze whip against it. The feeling was odd as his skin temperature abruptly changed from warm to cold.

Amana seemed to think the same as she giggled every so often at the sensation. Marik smiled at her innocence. Though the girl was eight, she still seemed to act much younger and laugh about pointless things. He didn't mind that, of course. He was a child himself and knew how fun it was to point out silly things and laugh about them. It was even better to hear another child do just that. Amana's giggle was adorable and contagious. Marik couldn't help but laugh with her whenever she found something humorous. It was such a treat to feel his sides ache with uncontrollable laughter. He had never felt so overjoyed by the sound; he didn't feel so alone anymore.

Amana thought the same.

Since she was troubled by unkindness and teased because of her hair, she was alone. Marik assumed she still had her brother but her expression told him that she was still unhappy. As they walked through the darkened desert, Amana did not say anything about her emotions or anything more about Kul Elna. They had not found the village yet and Marik was getting restless. He was still worried about the bandits and constantly scanned the area around them for any signs of shadowy figures. By the emptiness of the desert, it seemed the children were safe for now.

Amana squeezed Marik's hand tighter as reassurance when she noticed him whip his head around for the fiftieth time. She knew the stories of bandits, but she wasn't worried. Her village was the safest place to be and she knew it couldn't be much further. She also trusted Marik and knew he would protect her. Woman's instinct her mother called it.

Marik's fingers tightened in response. Amana could feel their palms sticking together uncomfortably due to sweat. Still, Amana didn't let go. Their sticky skin dribbling with sweat as their hands swung between them. Amana still held the bunch of remaining grapes in her other arm, cradling them to her chest so they wouldn't fall to the floor. She didn't feel like picking them up and then having to clean them of sand. Marik had told her to eat them all, but she saved them. She was not a selfish child and had told herself that she would keep some for Bakura. She smiled as she thought of her brother again. She missed him and desperately wanted to see him again. Amana sniffed, tears prickling her brown eyes. Marik noticed from the corner of his eye the state Amana was in, and gently loosened his grip on her hand. The little girl's head immediately snapped up and stared at Marik. Her eyes were curious but Marik could clearly see tears welling up in the brown orbs. He stopped walking and for the first time in that hour, let go of her hand.

"Marik?" Amana asked. From the sudden distraction, the tears stopped flowing and Amana's gaze was confused.

"I think we should take a break" Marik told her. In truth, they hadn't stopped for that hour at all. Marik could feel a headache coming on as he had still not drank any water. The only liquid he had consumed was from the few grapes he had eaten. Amana didn't seem to have had any water either. However she still had plenty of energy but she seemed to be wasting it on crying. So to calm her, Marik led her to a small crater in the sand at sat her down. The grapes slipped from Amana's fingers but she didn't bother going after them. Instead the two children leant back so that they rested against the sandy wall of the bowl like hole. Amana let her long, white hair flow out around her as she watched the sky.

The sky was so beautiful. She had never seen such a wonderful sight before. The stars were shining brightly amongst the blue clouds. The wind blew them across the dark sky, swirling them around each star but never blocking them from Amana's view. She could see the various colours painting the sky. Warm orange and baby pink were a thin, glowing line on the horizon. Dark blues and purples decorated the remainder of the sky, Nut swallowing Ra as the stars glistened around them. Amana saw Marik lean back against the sand with her. His violet eyes set on the stars. A smile spread across his face before he turned his head to Amana with glistening eyes.

"Do you like stargazing?" He asked with curiosity and excitement in his voice. Amana watched the boy for a while before answering.

"I like the stars, but I wasn't allowed out after the sun set" Her mother had always forbidden her from leaving the house when the sun was no longer in the sky. Amana had always wanted to stargaze as she was fascinated by the glistening gas orbs. Marik nodded and turned back to the sky. His hand reached up toward it, his index finger pointing at a particular star.

"Do you know many constellations, Amana?" Marik asked, his finger tracing the outer lines of a familiar shape above him.

Amana frowned. "What's a constellation?"

Marik's eyes were back on her in an instant. "You don't know?"

"Uh-uh"

Marik's eyebrows creased as he thought of how to explain. "A constellation is a shape that is written by the stars"

"Really?" Amana gasped, her chocolate eyes widening in excitement. "Can I find the shape?"

"Of course" the boy smiled "The shapes are not easy to find, though. Each star has a name as is very important. I'll teach you" Marik scooted closer to the other and pointed back up to the sky where he began to draw around one of the stars. "That's Isis"

Amana stared in awe at the bright star. "Goddess Isis?"

Marik nodded with a light smile. He often stared up at her when it was night. She shone the brightest and was the prettiest star in the sky. Marik remembered how he always used to compare his sister to the star. Sure, they had the same name, but they were more similar than he had ever thought. Both were equally as beautiful and glowed prettier than any other. They were also incredibly bright. Marik wouldn't be surprised if his sister was the goddess Isis in human form. The boy was interrupted by a small breath on his face. Marik blinked and noticed that Amana was staring in wonderment at him.

"What others do you know?" She asked quickly. Marik turned to the sky again and began to draw lines connecting certain stars.

"Now, Isis is here and she is facing up so she can look at her husband" Marik said, his finger finishing the final line. "That is Osiris"

Amana followed where Marik was pointing and managed to make out a few shapes above Isis. Three small stars were lined next to each other; around them were four stars that connected all stars together. Amana gasped at the shape it formed. She could see him, the god Osiris holding a staff and stepping towards his wife. It was a very romantic scenario, especially as they were written in the stars for all to see. It was quiet for a long time as the two children studied the two gods in the sky. Amana was the one to break the silence. She faced the tanned boy and sent him a warm smile of appreciation.

"Marik?"

"Yes?" the small boy asked, turning to Amana.

"Can you tell me more? About Osiris and Isis?" Amana asked shyly. She was very curious about the two lovers and was interested in hearing Marik telling her the story. She had not heard the tale of them before but had heard of Isis and her love for her husband.

"Well, my sister told me that Isis and Osiris were brother and sister, daughter and son of Geb and Nut. Osiris married Isis and the two ruled over Egypt. However their brother, Set, became jealous of Osiris and his rule over Egypt and hated Isis so he plotted a way of killing the Pharaoh. He created a chest that would fit Osiris perfectly which was made from the finest wood and gold. Set ordered a feast in honour of Osiris and offered him the chest, the pharaoh got in it but Set nailed it shut so Osiris died in there. The king died in the chest and Set threw it into the river" Marik stopped and took a breath while studying Amana's face. She watched the boy with interest, her brown eyes wide curiosity. However Marik didn't continue, instead he looked back to the sky. Amana wasn't sure if he had finished the tale or not. Surely that wasn't the ending; maybe his sister hadn't told him everything. Amana was about to ask but she thought it rude to pry. It didn't take long until Marik spoke up again, though.

"My sister's name is Isis" he said quietly, staring up at the pretty star. Amana smiled.

"Really? Is she beautiful?"

Marik looked at Isis for a long time. He could picture her; she looked just like his sister but older. Blue, icy eyes stared back at him, a young pretty face smiled at him with happiness. Her black ebony hair swung around her shoulders in a dance. Oh how he missed Isis. Though she was only a few years older than him, he knew she was too young to be priestess. She was better off free, with him.

"Very beautiful" the boy finally murmured. Amana frowned at how distant he seemed, and the longing look in his violet eyes. She wasn't sure why he seemed so hopeless. Had he lost Isis? Was he forbidden to see her? She was a priestess so surely they could see each other. As much as she liked to know what was going on, she remained silent. She was very nosy and liked to know everything, but she had realized that these situations were something not to push on.

After a while of lying in silence Amana's back began to ache. She stretched but wasn't satisfied with the feeling of her back so she placed her palms on the sand and pushed her body up. When she was seated comfortably a sudden sound made her jump. The girl squeaked and spun around anxiously when the whispering continued. Marik shot up and stared at the Egyptian girl with concern.

"What is it, Amana? What's wrong?" Marik asked frantically. His mind raced as he suddenly remembered where they were and how late it was getting. The boy whipped his head around as he slowly crawled up out of the crater. As earlier, he didn't spot any bandits or anyone. No shadows danced over the sand, no knives were thrown in their direction. The sudden touch of a hand on his arm almost made him scream. The Egyptian spun around and found Amana right beside him. Her tanned fingers held onto his bicep firmly, nails dug into his skin as she spoke.

"I heard voices"

"Voices? Where? Were they bandits? Thieves?" Marik spoke frantically and almost too quickly for Amana to hear. When she was sure he had finished asking so many questions, she loosened her grip and sat back on the sand.

"No, it was more of a whisper. They sounded right in my ear and keep telling me to save something" Amana said uncertainly.

"Save something?" Marik repeated. Amana nodded. "How long have these whispers being going on?"

"They started yesterday, but they were really quiet. They were louder today and told me to come out here and find the gold. They said save us" Amana sniffed whilst looking at ground.

Marik frowned in confusion. "Is that why you wandered out here by yourself?"

"I didn't tell anyone because they would call me names for hearing voices" Amana cried in anguish. Her small hands rose before slamming down onto the sand. "I don't understand what they are trying to tell me. I don't even know who they are" Marik stared at the poor girl before scooping her into his arms and wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. He wasn't one for comforting, but he hated to see Amana in such a state. She seemed to appreciate the hug and returned it gratefully. Her head rested against the Egyptian's shoulder. Marik jumped slightly when he felt her breath by his ear. "Do you think it was Isis?"

Marik stiffened before realizing Amana was referring to the goddess. He smiled warmly at her. "It just might have been, Amana"

The children stayed holding each other for a while longer before Amana jumped away with a start. Marik looked at her before turning and scanning the desert. When he saw that the coast was clear he turned back to the little girl. "Are the voices back?"

Amana shook her head, her long hair swinging around her, "No, they are different" the girl hushed herself when she heard the voices again. These were not the same. They were not whispering in her ear and they weren't instructing her. Instead the voices called her name.

Without warning, Amana pushed herself up from the sandy floor and shot of through the desert, grapes forgotten. Her feet led her to her destination, the screams guiding her home. The grains of sand sprayed behind her as her bare feet touched the ground. She could hear Marik following, his footsteps heavy and shouts piercing. However Amana didn't stop her running. Her feet never ceased their movements as she ran against the wind. The white strands of hair were brushed back by the breeze making it easier for Amana to see where she was going. Although she knew that already.

"Momma!" she cried as the village came into view. Marik's feet slowed when he noticed the tops of houses appear in front of him. However he told himself to keep going, he needed to make sure Amana got back safely. The boy managed to reach the top of a large hill; he was shocked at what was on the other side. A beautiful village was sitting amongst the sand. Because of the darkened sky, it left the village almost invisible. Still, Marik could see the buildings clearly and couldn't help marvel at how ancient they looked. The village wasn't very big and had many houses all lined neatly in parallel lines. These houses were illuminated by torch light outside each house. The village would have been the most peaceful village if not for the hundreds of villagers wondering around.

A few were screaming Amana's name, so Marik was positive this was Kul Elna. Others were merely searching silently whilst carrying torches. The place was certainly crowded, but Marik didn't feel like this was the time to admire. Instead the boy took off again and slid down the hill until he was inside of Kul Elna. The sand was cold when he reached the first line of houses. Some people who were nearby turned to give Marik a curious glance. Others ignored his presence. The Egyptian felt uncomfortable being stared at but he pushed the feeling down and walked further into the village. He could see Amana up ahead, her body had stopped running and she embraced a tall woman, Marik assumed it was her mother. He smiled at the moving reunion. Amana hadn't noticed him yet so he continued to walk forward, not looking at anyone other than the little girl and her mother.

Because of that, he never noticed the grey eyed boy a few meters away.

Before Marik could blink, the young Egyptian found his back against a wall. It cracked as the wall made contact with him, and Marik couldn't help but cry out in surprise and pain. His head pounded at the sudden movement so he kept perfectly still. His body stiffened when he felt a cold metal press against his throat. Marik peered up at his assaulter, expecting to see a burly bandit. Instead he found himself face to face with another tanned boy. This one was taller than him and seemed very strong for his age, which seemed to be about Marik's age. Of course, the boy couldn't see his attacker due to the dark so his features were hidden. Not that Marik would recognize him anyway. The other boy shifted slightly which caused the blade at his neck to dig in his flesh, luckily not breaking the skin. Marik lifted his head and watched the other with frightened eyes. He had not been threatened before, and he didn't like it one bit.

The other boy leant forward, his face leering and shadowed. "Who are you?" the dark voice hissed.

Marik gulped, the knife riding over his flesh at the motion. "I…I'm…" his voice trailed off. He didn't know what to do. The safest option was to tell the truth and do whatever he was told. However the knife at his throat made it difficult to think straight. Surely a child this young shouldn't be carrying knives. Marik was forced out of his thoughts as the blade sunk further. A small trickle of blood crept down his neck and the boy cried out. His dark attacker stayed silent as he watched the boy squirm in his grip before a masochistic grin crept onto his face.

Marik recoiled at the pearly fangs that were revealed to him. He had a feeling those teeth could just as easily rip into flesh as this knife. His violet eyes widened in fear. The other child seemed to feel a bit of compassion as he removed the grin from his face and replaced it with a scowl.

"Who. Are. You?" the boy repeated, spitting out each word with venom. "What were you doing with Amana?"

Marik's eyes widened even more, if that were possible, and gave the child a dumbfounded expression. Though, really he shouldn't have been surprised. He was a stranger who had strolled into another's village, after all. Besides, who wouldn't be protective over an innocent girl like Amana?

"Answer my question!" the child snarled, digging the blade further into the skin. Marik yelped as more blood trickled down his skin. Why didn't he do as he was told and answer the question? He was too young to die. As the other had sunk the knife into Marik's skin, the Egyptian noticed a glimpse of white hair in a torch's light. Immediately one name swam through his head and he found his lips forming it before he realized.

"Bakura?"

The boy's head snapped up as soon as the word escaped Marik's mouth. The knife loosened somewhat but it was still pressed uncomfortably against the skin. Bakura's white fringe was pushed aside and Marik could see a fierce grey gaze directed toward him. But before Bakura could form anything to say, a small girl rushed over with a glare on her pretty face.

"Bakura!" she screamed, her hands reaching out to pull the knife away from Marik. However, the white haired boy had already removed the weapon. Amana growled warningly but Bakura ignored her. He turned and headed towards an open door way with a dangerous glare fixed on his face. Marik watched him go with a curious yet fearful gaze. His tanned hands shot up to his neck and brushed away the blood. The cuts weren't serious or deep and were merely scratches. Still, he knew they would definitely be sore in the morning. Amana seemed concerned as she studied his throat. Her fingers gently wiped away some of the blood and she squeezed his hand in comfort. "I'm so sorry" she sobbed as she slowly led him away from the wall.

"I'm fine, Amana. It's okay" Marik reassured her, but Amana still felt incredibly guilty for letting her brother jump at Marik like that. As the girl didn't answer him, Marik just allowed her to lead him to a small house. It was old looking, made of strong stone that crumbled slightly at the corners. The door was tall and wooden with a symbol carved into it. The mark was quite unnerving as it was a pyramid of sorts with a watchful eye in the middle. Marik turned away from it as he was pulled into the building.

"Amana? Who is this?" a woman's voice asked from the corner of the room. Marik looked up and recognized the woman as Amana's mother. She was very beautiful with black hair cascading down her back. It was braided and swung against her back as she walked toward them. Her dress looked cheap and dirty, but she still looked remarkably pretty whilst wearing it. The woman walked around a large wooden table that was placed in the centre of the room and smiled warmly down at the children.

"This is Marik, momma. He helped me get home" Amana replied, gently pushing the boy forward toward the lovely woman.

"Did he now?" she said, her brown eyes glistening with thanks. "Well, Marik. You are most welcome in my home. Thank you so much for finding, Amana" with that, she sank down to the dusty concrete and swept the boy into her arms. Her dress expanding around them as she pulled him into her arms. Marik was still as she cuddled him and whispered her gratitude into his ear. Before he could even consider returning her hug she had let him go. "Marik?" the boy looked up at her without saying a word. "Where are you staying?"

Amana spoke up before Marik could open his mouth. "Oh, mommy. He lives at the palace" the young girl was literally bouncing as she told her mother of how Marik and his siblings lived with the Pharaoh. The woman's eyes widened the more her daughter explained. However she waited until the she had finished talking before speaking herself.

"That is quite the story. Does anyone know where you are, child?" Marik shook his head. "Oh dear. Well, I am unable to take you back myself as I have no transport and it is far too dark and dangerous for me to send you alone"

"Momma?" Amana asked suddenly. Her fingers wormed their way into Marik's hand and she squeezed happily.

"Yes, sweetie?" The woman looked down at her daughter with interest.

"Could Marik stay here?" Marik's head snapped to Amana immediately, his eyes once again widening in surprise. He couldn't believe it. Amana was actually offering him a place to stay? She hardly knew him and yet she had saved him, entertained him and kept him company, now she was offering him a home? Her mother seemed to think about it for a while before brightening considerably.

"I think that is a wonderful idea" she stated as she turned. Her beige dress swung around her legs and brushed the dust from the floor in a swift movement. "That is if you want to stay here?"

Marik didn't hesitate as his head nodded eagerly. "Thank you, yes, I would love to stay here" Amana's mother smiled excitedly as she ran over to a large pile of straw. She bent down and gently fixed it up a bit so that it was much tidier. Many pieces of straw had already decorated the floor but she didn't take any time to clean it up. Instead she walked over to the two children and set herself on the floor beside them. She had a feeling her husband would not approve of having another child in their house, but she couldn't allow the poor boy to leave. Marik seemed such a lovely, sweet child, though he didn't speak much. Still, her daughter seemed very fond of him and she knew that Bakura may like him too. Her son needed a friend as well as her daughter. Bakura was a troubled boy, but hopefully having the right person around would be good for him. Besides she knew that Bakura would definitely take an interest in palace occupants. She had a feeling those boys would get along fine.

Call it, woman's instinct.

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Thanks for reading and please review to let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, a fairly long update. There was going to be more in this chapter but it would just have been too long. Plus I really wanted to update today. I have a feeling that my dialogue is improving slightly (I like to think so). I hope you enjoy this update, and I'm sorry about any errors. (I'm writing on my tablet again). Please enjoy and reviews are greatly appreciated.

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Chapter Three

Small, tanned eyelids fluttered as the rays of sun bounced off them. Marik rolled over with a groan and instinctively covered his eyes from the sun. It didn't seem to work though; his fingers parted and allowed the rays to burn his lids. The boy always hated waking up in the mornings. He would always be rudely woken, either by the sun or his nightmares. It seemed that this morning it was the sun that was to blame.

With another frustrated groan, Marik tossed and turned to try and find a comfortable position where the sun couldn't get him. Unfortunately the rays only brightened as if to mock the small boy. After a few more rolls Marik gave up on sleep and just decided to wake himself up. He didn't see the point in getting rest if the sun was beaming down. For the young Egyptian it had to be pitch black when he slept, which was partly why he enjoyed living underground. Still, the rays of sunlight managed to sneak in and disturb his slumber. Marik slowly opened a violet eye, his vision blurred so he kept it half lidded. The rays dimmed slightly at the glare Marik gave the ceiling. There were a few holes where Marik was staring, pink washing over the sky as Ra was reborn again. The walls around the room also had a few cracks and holes decorating them. Marik wasn't very surprised though, the house looked very old and worn. It must have looked cosy and inviting in earlier years.

Marik could tell that Amana's family were poor just by looking at their living environment. They could have gotten the holes in the walls covered up if they had enough gold for it. Looking around the room, Marik knew there was no gold in this household. There were a few silk drapes hanging to act as doors, but they were the only things that looked worth a few silver pieces. Even that amount wouldn't be able to buy much, maybe a weeks worth of food. However, it was curious how the family got by. Amana and her mother didn't look thin; in fact they seemed well fed. Marik wasn't sure about Bakura though, he hadn't been able to see the other's form well in the dark. Also Marik had been too preoccupied with the blade pressed to his throat than his attacker's weight.

Marik wondered what had happened with Bakura. Surely his mother didn't allow him to carry knives and threaten other children. She was a very kind and gentle woman, much like Amana so she would make Bakura that way too, right? She seemed to raise her children like a proper mother should. However, it was clear that Bakura didn't agree and got into trouble a lot. Sure he was protective, but did that mean he had to press a knife to a person's throat? Marik sighed and rolled onto his side so he was facing the room. The place he slept was empty and quiet. The Egyptian boy couldn't help but wonder where Bakura was now. He hadn't returned to the house during the night, though Bakura was very sneaky and quiet when he moved. Marik felt incredibly intrigued by the strange white haired boy. Bakura had a temper on him, but had a heart as he had stood to protect Amana. The boy was very interesting and Marik wanted to learn more about the sinister child.

The problem was, he had no idea where to look. Bakura was like a phantom and blended in with the darkness. Because of that Marik had been unable to see Bakura's features well; all he knew was that the child had grey eyes and white hair. Marik felt a tingle in his chest as he thought of what Bakura would look like in the daylight. He was excited now and considerably more awake to go in search of Bakura. However his joy turned to panic as he remembered exactly how Bakura acted towards him. If the white haired boy saw him stalking through Kul Elna Marik knew Bakura would threaten him again. That was something Marik didn't want to deal with in the morning. Plus Bakura probably didn't know Marik had stayed the night. That would definitely cause problems for him. It would be best if he just ran out of Kul Elna and back to his tunnels underground, but it was cosy here. He had met so many people last night (even if one was a dangerous child). And he had finally made a friend. Altogether Marik was incredibly happy staying in the worn down house in a beautiful village. He thought of having a walk around the village for a while to see this strange place. It was a good idea really if he was going to search for Bakura. He needed to know exactly where he was going and not get lost. Marik always had a habit of getting lost in unfamiliar places, but who wouldn't?

The young boy raised his head slightly, both his violet eyes opening as they had gotten used to the light by now. His vision was still a bit blurry, but after a few blinks and a rub of his hand, his vision was as clear as ever. That only made the holes and dirt much easier for his eyes to see. Now he could see every detail of the sandy specks that littered the floor, and the thin cracks which expanded from the holes. Marik placed his palms by his head and lifted himself up to a comfortable sitting position. The boy lifted his nose when he realized what exactly he had been sleeping on. He was placed in a corner of the room, perched on top of a pile of straw. The bedding was rough but better than sleeping on the hard floor all night so he couldn't complain. The small boy shook his head, his blond locks flowing around his shoulders. His tanned fingers flew up to his hair and tugged through it quickly. He couldn't believe how messy it was at the amount of tangles he tried to fix.

"Oh, you're awake"a soft voice declared. Marik released his hair with a squeak of surprise and turned quickly to the source. Marik's eyes widened even more when he spotted a pretty woman standing by the entrance. She leant forward slightly, her hands clasped together in front of her. Marik recognized her beautiful features immediately, lips curled up into a gentle smile. But, Marik was definitely surprised at the sudden shock of white hair that stuck up around her face. Short greyish locks curled around her neck and face in sharp spikes. Marik couldn't help but stare in wonderment at it. The hair was short and the length of the middle of her neck, and suited her much better than the ebony braid she wore last night. What had happened to that black hair? Though, it did make sense for her to have the same colour hair as her children.

Amana's mother twisted around to the wooden door behind her and quickly slammed it shut, Marik's gaze still fixed on her swooping silver hair. The woman then picked up the few items she had placed on the floor whilst coming in, and walked over to the small dusty table in the centre of the room. Marik watched her every move with curiosity, trying to figure out in his tiny head what was going on with this strange family. Nothing seemed normal anymore. The items were carelessly thrown onto the tabletop before the female turned to Marik again with an inviting smile.

"Would you like something to eat, sweetie?" She asked. Marik kept his mouth closed, not sure whether to decline or not. He didn't feel hungry but, of course, his stomach decided to disagree and grumbled extremely loudly. Marik's cheeks dusted pink as the woman giggled. A pale tanned hand stretched out into his face and Marik grabbed it shyly. He wasn't used to being around adults, or even children his own age for that matter. He wasn't sure what to do when he was in someone else's company. However the mother seemed to know what she was doing as she led Marik to a seat at the table and placed a small mat in front of him. It was beige and stained with who knows what so the child kept his hands in his lap and refused to touch the fabric. Instead he distracted himself by staring back up at the woman with quizzical eyes. She had turned away to get some food so she didn't notice Marik's gaze fixed on her white hair.

After a few minutes went by, Amana's mother turned back to Marik with bread and a small bowl of water in her arms. She set them down on the small beige mat and grinned as Marik shyly picked up the bread and nibbled at it, like a mouse would cheese. The woman sat opposite the boy and began picking at some juicy dates she had collected earlier. It wasn't long before she realized Marik was still staring at her hair, and she let out a small laugh. Thin tanned fingers reached up and tugged at the short spikes to tame it caused by the strong wind outside. Her fingers combed through it gently like she had spotted Marik doing earlier and smiled to herself.

"I bet it was surprising seeing me with white hair this morning" she laughed. Marik peered up at the brown eyes, the bread still placed between his lips. He nodded knowing that it was rude to speak with his mouth full. The mother nodded and let her fingers fall back on the table to play with the dates. Marik pulled a large piece of bread off with his teeth and swallowed in a quick gulp, setting the left over bread on the dirty mat.

"Why?" Marik asked curiously as he took a swig of water from the bowl. The woman looked up immediately with quizzical eyes.

"Why what?"

Marik set the bowl down while he swallowed the cool water. It really helped wet his dry throat and made it easier to talk. "Why has your hair changed colour, miss..." the boy trailed off realizing that he hadn't got a clue what this woman's name was. Marik frowned. However the female giggled and gave Marik a reassuring smile before speaking.

"Touzoku, but you may call me Kiya." Marik grinned and pointed his thumb towards himself proudly.

"I'm Marik Ishtar" he stated happily. Kiya stared at the boy with amused brown eyes before reaching out her hand in a polite gesture.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Marik" Kiya replied. Marik reached his small hand up and shook the other's enthusiastically.

"Likewise" Marik laughed, though he regretted the impolite reply so he quickly added "ma'am" which made Kiya smile.

Before she could forget, Kiya remembered Marik's earlier question and answered with a small chuckle. "This is my natural hair"

"Natural?" Marik interrupted with a crease in his brow. Kiya watched the boy for a moment before standing from the seat and walking over to a small drawer by the wall. Marik stared after her with confusion yet curiosity in his eyes. Before he could ask what she was doing, Kiya swung around with a black object cradled in her arms. It looked furry and at first Marik suspected it was an animal, but what had an animal got anything to do with hair? They had fur, didn't they? The boy continued to stare at the object in confusion as Kiya walked back to the table. She took her seat again and rested the black thing between them. For a long time Marik just sat where he was studying the furry thing. It looked rough and unnatural. The boy looked up and watched Kiya. So was this what she was talking about when she said her hair was natural?

"Um, what is this, Kiya?" Marik asked. The woman smiled gently and picked up the object again. She kept her chocolate eyes on Marik as she placed the thing roughly on her head. The boy gasped when he spotted the black braid hanging over her shoulder. "This is hair!" he exclaimed with shock. Kiya merely nodded and took the hair off her head, shaking her natural shock of white hair instead.

"It is called a wig. Many of us wear this artificial hair to hide our real colour" Kiya sighed.

"Is that why you wear it? To hide your hair colour?" Marik asked, his fingers reaching out to play with the ebony braid. He could definitely tell it was fake by the roughness of it. Real hair never felt like that, it was soft and silky like his own. The boy peered up at Kiya and he saw her nod silently.

"I have to wear this so that the villagers in the marketplace will sell me something"

"Why wouldn't they sell you anything?" Marik asked, twirling the braid around his small fingers though his violet gaze was glued to Kiya.

The Egyptian woman smiled sadly as she continued "Because my family's hair colour is unique, we are treated differently to other villagers. The marketplace refuse to sell me anything as I am different. However by wearing this wig, I appear to be an ordinary Egyptian buyer."

Marik nodded in understanding. He had been treated similarly in the palace as he had been the only person in his family with blond hair. It had been hard to fit in considering he was already treated differently. He couldn't help but feel disgusted at the way Kiya had been treated just because of her hair. Marik thought that the mysterious white colour was beautiful and really suited the Touzoku family. He wondered though if the children had to wear wigs like Kiya. Amana didn't mention ever having to wear one and Bakura most definitely didn't wear one. Marik's gaze went from understanding to quizzical.

"Does Amana have to wear one too?" Marik didn't bother asking about Bakura. Plus Kiya probably didn't know he had already met Bakura so he kept to just asking about Amana for the moment. Kiya shook her head.

"No, she doesn't"

"Why not?" Marik asked. The boy flicked the uncomfortable looking wig with his index finger before picking it up to examine it. The hair looked rough, and seemed to be quite heavy in his hands. He wondered what it would be like to wear such a thing on his head. It would be itchy and hot, he imagined but it would successfully hide his real hair. He was pulled out of his thoughts as Kiya answered his question.

"I don't want Amana to hide herself. If she hides her hair, it is like hiding her personality. She would have to pretend to be someone she is not and it pains me to think of that. If she reveals herself for who she truly is, there will be someone out there who will acknowledge her. I'm glad you were the one to find her" Kiya smiled down at Marik with such kindness that it forced Marik's lips to curl up in return. It was obvious now that Amana was just as alone as he was. Still, they had become friends and had a chance to help each other. Marik sat still for a few minutes, setting the wig back down onto the wooden table. Slowly, the small Egyptian leaned forward toward Kiya.

"Can I touch it?" Marik asked cautiously.

"What?" Kiya replied confused.

"Your hair, can I touch it?" Marik repeated, his right arm reaching up from under the table.

"Um, yes" Kiya said after a moments hesitation. Her body stiffened as she leant forward, allowing Marik's tiny fingers to stroke the short spikes. She managed to relax and smile warmly at the boy while his hand tugged through many of the knots. Marik was in awe as he combed through it. The white strands were so soft, just as Amana's had been in the desert. The white strands fell through his grip as he let go of it. He knew not to mess with someone's hair for too long, although Kiya's fascinated him. He immediately wondered if Bakura's would be as soft, if the strands of hair would fall beautifully in his grip as he stroked through it. Marik almost gasped at the thought. He knew that if he even mentioned touching his hair, Bakura would cut his fingers off with that knife of his.

Marik leaned back in his chair and placed his hands back in his lap, instead twiddling his thumbs to stop him from reaching out for the gorgeous hair again. Kiya hadn't seemed to mind at all, but she leant back as well mirroring Marik's position. Her hands though rested on the table as she picked up a date and slipped it into her mouth.

"So, Marik" Kiya started. Marik glanced at her shyly. "You live at the palace?"

The boy nodded a little hesitantly. "I do" his voice was quiet.

"Do you have anyone that knows where you are or can come to fetch you?" Kiya asked politely. She missed Marik's grimace that flickered across his face.

"No, I don't. It doesn't matter, I can walk back myself" Marik said, his violet eyes looking at his hands. From the corner of his eyes he could see the woman flailing her arms, almost in panic.

"But it is at least a three day walk. I can't just let you go wandering by yourself. Children your age shouldn't be walking around alone, especially if you are from the palace" Kiya cried. "I shall arrange someone to take you back to the palace"

Marik gasped and reached out his arms. He couldn't be taken back there, the royals would recognize him and he would be trapped again. "Ah, it is fine, really. I can take care of myself"

"I'm sure you can, but I still won't let a member of the palace walk into the desert" Marik sighed and settled back in the seat. There seemed to be no arguing with Kiya. She seemed very stubborn when she wanted to be. At least he might be able to have a look around the village before he went back. He would have to think of a way to make the person drop him off by the tunnels. He was sure he could come up with something. Though he would be sad that he had to leave Kul Elna. Amana and Kiya were the first people to actually treat him as an equal, and itseemed Marik had treated them the same. It would be a shame that he didn't get to spend much time with them, that he didn't explore Kul Elna thoroughly. He even felt especially disappointed that he didn't get to meet Bakura.

With that, Marik lifted his head to stare at Kiya again. "Kiya?" the woman immediately looked back to the other.

"Yes, dear?"

"Is Bakura your son?" Marik asked, though he already knew the answer. Kiya smiled.

"Yes. Have you two met?"

"Not exactly" Marik answered awkwardly. He played with his fingers under the table as he continued. "What is he like?"

Kiya's lips curved up even more at the sudden question about her son. She had hoped that Marik might have met Bakura already, as Bakura had a tendency to know anyone and everyone who entered Kul Elna. Since Marik had helped Amana and treated her so friendly, that Marik might be able to do the same for Bakura. She could tell he desperately needed a friend. "Bakura is a sweet child. He may seem troubled at times, but he has has a tough time fitting in here. My son has a bad temper but can be such a softy." Kiya's gaze seemed far away as she spoke and Marik couldn't help but smile at her expression. She obviously loved Bakura with all her heart. "Marik" she said softly. The boy raised an eyebrow. "If you find him and he gives you a tough time" she leant forward with twinkling eyes. "Remember that he likes a challenge, he needs someone who can snap back" Kiya winked and Marik laughed. He would have to keep that information in his head when he found Bakura. Hopefully he wouldn't get in the boy's way and cause him to give Marik a tough time.

"I'll be sure to let you know when I have someone to escort you back. You are welcome here anytime, Marik" the boy smiled up at Kiya "I think there is somewhere you want to be, isn't there?" Marik nodded and lifted himself up from his seat. He wanted to look through the village and find Bakura. He had to be careful though, the boy could be anywhere. The Egyptian walked around the table and quickly jumped into Kiya's open arms. Her embrace was warm and Marik immediately felt safe. Kiya had been so kind to him, and treated him like her own son. To Marik, she acted like a mother would and kept him happy. Though he had only spent the night there, Marik was the happiest he had been since he left the palace. The boy snugled into the woman's chest momentarily before pulling back and running out of the door with a huge smile dancing on his face.

Marik kept to himself as he stalked through the small village. Well, it seemed small from when he had looked at it last night. As he explored the different corners and alleys, Marik could tell Kul Elna was much larger than he had thought. The village had absolutely loads of small houses scattered around long sandy roads. All of which seemed old or worn down. It was surprising that anyone could actually live in such places. Still, it was shelter for the poor villagers. Marik could tell that not only the Touzoku family had no gold. All of the villagers wore dirty or unclean rags, only a few families had prettier clothes.

Marik sighed as he passed by another old building. What had happened to this place? It must have been a much nicer looking village in earlier years. Now, though everything looked sad. Why were all the people so poor? Surely the pharaoh would have looked after these people, but of course remembering back Marik knew the king had no heart. Marik merely sighed again as he turned a corner into a dark alley way. He wished that Kul Elna had been better taken care of, and that these people could actually afford enough things from the markets. Or even go to the markets and be served without worrying about hair colour. It was disgusting, and Marik wished he could do something about it. Unfortunately he was no longer part of the palace so he couldn't bring the matter to the pharaoh, not that he trusted the man with such an issue. It seemed nothing was easy anymore.

It had even been difficult tracking Bakura, not that he expected it to be an easy task. Still, it seemed fruitless, as he hadn't once spotted white hair ot grey eyes. Of course he probably would have found Bakura if he knew exactly what the boy looked like. Marik growled and stared at the floor in irritation. He watched as his small bare feet skimmed over the cool sand, dark due to the closed off alley. His toe suddenly pressed against something sharp buried in the sand. Cautiously Marik bent down and wrapped his fingers around the object. It was cold compared to the warmth of Marik's skin, and dug into his flesh as he tugged it out of the dirt. When it was sitting snuggly in his palm, Marik rose from the floor and examined the object. He couldn't help feel disappointed when he noticed it was only a sharp rock. He winced and pushed down his temper when he realized the rock had cut his palm thanks to his tight grip.

Marik gritted his teeth at the throbbing in his hand and was about to lift his arm to throw the stone only to find his back pressed up against the wall. His violet eyes had closed during impact so the feeling of a blade to his throat made him panic even more. However Marik kept still knowing exactly who was threatening him. Surprisingly, Marik's anger caused him to become confident enough to sneakily tighten his grip on the rock,and place it by his attacker's side.

"Hello, Bakura" Marik hissed, opening his eyes in a glare. As expected Bakura stood in front of him with a furious expression on his face. Amusement briefly crossed the boy's features at Marik's braveness, but soon returned into a scowl. Marik ignored it and instead studied the other's form. Bakura's hair stood out the clearest. Marik was still surprised at the colour, but Bakura's looked exactly like his mother's, even the style was the same. Marik's thoughts immediately went to the softness of Kiya's hair and how the spikes tickled his skin. He wondered how Bakura's must feel, and how they would feel with his fingers running through it.

Marik's eyes ran from the strange hair to the boy's clothing. Bakura definitely seemed better off than his family. The boy wore a beige waist cloth that looked very dusty, it wasn't surprising sinve Bakura spent most of his time outside. That wasn't what shocked him, though. The boy had a long red cloak draped over his shoulders. The fabric looked very exspensive and hung over him. It was definitely too big for him but it covered him protectively and stopped the sun's rays from burning him. Bakura's grey eyes pierced through Marik as the boy looked back up at his face, still well aware of the knife to his throat.

"Where did you learn my name?" Bakura asked, his gaze burning. Marik kept still, only moving his head slightly to get more comfortable against the wall. He had a feeling he would be kept there for awhile.

"Amana"

"Ah, of course" Bakura replied scarily calmly. The knife moved closer to the flesh, Marik's fingers curled tighter on the rock which Bakura seemed unaware of. The smaller Egyptian managed to successfully hide his wince as the stone buried into his skin, something trickling down his wrist. Bakura cocked his head to the side, his eyes filling with curiosity. "And before I was interrupted by her, I remember you going to tell me who you are" Marik kept his lips sealed, he wasn't going to be threatened into revealing his name. Sure, Bakura had a knife, but Marik wasn't completely useless. He had a weapon of his own he could use. Remembering what he had been told about Bakura, Marik didn't reply and waited for Bakura to continue. The other waited for a few minutes before getting impatient and shoved Marik further into the wall. "Well? What the hell's your name?"

Marik felt his mouth curve up slightly in a grin. "My name is of no importance to you" Marik almost laughed at the shock that crossed Bakura's face. It was masked by a sly smirk.

"It is when you are associated with my sister" the knife dug into the skin of Marik's neck, the boy grimaced at the feeling of blood trickling down his flesh. "Besides, isn't it polite to give your name in exchange for someone else's?"

"It is, but I already know your name" Marik replied. Bakura's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "A name isn't important anyway"

"Of course it is! A name is your identity, it should be treasured like your life and only given to certain people" Bakura explained. Marik shook his head, well as much as he could with the blade at his skin.

"I can be called anything, technically they are all names. It is just a word. Besides if I wanted to give it to you, I would. It just seems you are not one of those certain people"

"Then what is the problem? You tell me this when you could have easily given me a fake name"

"I could have, but I am not a liar" Marik grinned. Bakura returned the expression, his fingers loosening around the handle of the knife.

"What if I made you tell me?" Bakura asked as he slowly dragged the metal across Marik's throat. The motion was so gentle that it made Marik shiver against the wall.

"Go ahead, Kura" at the nickname Bakura's eyes flashed and the knife was back. Marik's eyes momentarily widened at the closeness of both the weapon and Bakura. He had pushed himself up against Marik's body and forced the boy roughly up the wall. The brick dug into Marik's back but he remained confident as he moved the rock in his hand closer to Bakura's side. "You'll only cause yourself pain" at that sentence, Marik pushed the sharp rock into the other's side warningly. The red cloak prevented Marik from actually stabbing the boy, but it was enough for Bakura to stop and think. The grey eyes stared at Marik with confusion before they glanced down at the stone. Amusement once again crossed Bakura's face, he had never been challenged like this before and had never had a weapon pointed at him before. It was definitely a first for him.

Bakura let out a chilling laugh, his head thrown back to the orange sky. Marik's eyes widened at that reaction. He certainly didn't expect to be laughed at. But, the chuckles soon died down and the knife in Bakura's hand was removed from Marik's throat. Immediately his small fingers gripped his neck like last night, but luckily the cut was only a scratch and what he thought had been blood was just a bead of sweat. The cuts from their previous meeting had healed so he only had to worry about the wound in his palm. Marik chucked the rock as far as he could and pulled his hand up to his face. The cut wasn't deep but it had been bleeding a lot, so the boy slid his tongue out and licked along the trail of crimson. The copper taste was horrid in his mouth, but he scrunched his nose and swallowed.

When he was satisfied that his hand was clean of blood, Marik reached for his sleeve and tried to tug a piece off. However, he was very weak and just looked absolutely ridiculous flailing about to rip his clothes. A few minutes of struggling went by before a pair of darkly tanned hands gripped his shoulder and pulled sharply at the fabric. Marik gasped at the sudden loud tearing noise and spun around meeting the bored, grey gaze. Bakura grabbed Marik's wounded hand and quickly wrapped it up in the make shift bandage. In a few seconds the boy's fingers were gone and he thrust the knife in Marik's face. The boy reflexively took a step back.

"Here. A knife is better than using a rock" Bakura stated as he forced his knife into the other's good hand. Marik merely blinked up at the white haired boy in confusion.

"Thanks" he replied. Bakura stayed silent and instead turned on his heel back towards the entrance of the alley. Marik, knowing he had no idea where to go, followed close behind. "My name's Marik"

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "Marik what?"

"Huh?" Marik squeaked as he managed to catch up to Bakura and walk by his side.

"You must have a surname" Bakura rolled his eyes at the other's stupidity.

"Ishtar. Marik Ishtar"

"Hmm. I recognize that surname" Bakura murmured as he turned a corner into a crowded road. Marik's eyes brightened.

"You do?

"I do, but I can't remember where I've heard it before" Marik nodded. He wasn't sure what to think of Bakura's exclamations. How could Bakura have heard that name before, unless it was because of his siblings. They were royalty now, so their names must have travelled, even if it was this far into the desert. Bakura turned another corner, pressing himself to the nearest brick wall. Marik followed suit.

"So, Ishtar" Marik scowled at the use of his surname. If he wanted his name so badly why didn't he use it? "Where did you come from?"

"Firstly, my name is Marik. Ma-rik! I have a first name so use it." Bakura chuckled "Secondly I don't trust you, so why would I tell you that?"

"You told me your name, didn't you? That was voluntary considering I had threatened you a few minutes earlier" Bakura glanced at Marik with a dangerous glint to his grey eyes. Marik snorted and folded his arms.

"I give anyone my name if they ask nicely"

"I didn't"

"Shut up, idiot" Marik growled. Bakura didn't pry, though about his home like Marik thought he would. Instead Bakura dropped their argument with a loud laugh and twirled back to the crowds. Marik rose an eyebrow at all this moving around but kept quiet following the cloaked figure with a smile on his face. This boy was definitely confusing. He had been shadowy and threatening only a few minutes ago and now he was laughing and the small banter they had been having. Though Marik couldn't say he wasn't interested in Bakura's character. The boy was mysterious yet he could be civil if he wanted to be. Surprisingly it had been nice chatting and arguing with Bakura, though tey had only spent a small amount of time together. The Egyptian hoped that he could get to know Bakura, and learn all the mysteries that came with him.


End file.
